


Bucephalus

by filenotch



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Other, Pony Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-01
Updated: 2008-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-04 07:29:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/391317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/filenotch/pseuds/filenotch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Words have never been John Sheppard's strong point.</p><p>  <i>She looked at him and raised her eyebrows a fraction, then repeated the name into the phone before asking. "Is his harness ready? Minimal. Shoes and halter. Chest harness. Hmm." She turned to Rodney. "Tail?"</i></p><p>  <i>"Um, er, tail?" He tried not to embarrass John by fainting at the thought, but it was a near thing. He was pretty sure his voice had cracked.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Bucephalus

Rodney looked out the window on the Virginia landscape, at the edge of rural and regal, where new mansions and new barns had been built on farmland, not too near to the old farmhouses and red, sagging barns that were fighting gravity and time. John drove the rental, a black Mustang convertible, and the way he was taking the few curves they encountered made Rodney wish for a hard top with a Jesus handle. "Would you slow down? These things don't have inertial dampeners, you know."

"Rodney," John said in that placating tone that managed to both irritate and sooth. 

"Could you at least tell me where we're going?" He glanced over, and only years of working together in the field gave Rodney any idea of John's mood. He was nervous.

"Rodney," John said again. This was the version of his name that came with a hitch of breath and a snort following it. This was the _Rodney_ that meant, _I have something to say, and I have no idea how to say it._ Rodney had categorized at least two dozen Sheppard-specific inflections on his name, ranging from a quiet _raaahdNEY?_ (which meant _Do you know you have just embarrassed me, and I'm going to shoot you if you don't shut up?_ ) to **Rod** ni (which meant something along the lines of _Please tell me you haven't been horribly injured_ ). This one, though, with the hitch and the snort that was most definitely not a sigh, wasn't one he heard often.

Rodney ventured to put a hand on John's leg. "Out with it. This is no country drive. You said you were taking me to meet someone important to you. From the looks of the houses, I'd guess a rich uncle, or the ex-wife, or, hell, I have no idea."

John said nothing, and a moment later the swung into a driveway, stopping before they reached an ornate gate with an intercom. The gate had horses worked into the metal, and it wasn't new money, even Rodney could see that. There was a barn, white and well-maintained, and horses out in the pasture. John took the car out of gear and shifted slightly in his seat to face Rodney.

"You know, the stuff we, you know, do?"

"Running for our lives, saving the universe, or the, uh, rather inventive sex."

John looked vaguely pained. "That last thing."

Rodney was confused. "Are you taking me to an afternoon orgy? This hardly looks the place for it, or is it--Oh, no. Please tell me you aren't pulling an Equus on me. Or is it sheep?" Rodney knew he wasn't making sense, but something about this, about the serious look on John's face was making him nervous "Oh god, there's a dungeon in there, and you're going to introduce me to your master. I mean, I know you like being tied up, but it's not like there's a lot of leather on Atlantis that doesn't come from Bronze Age civilizations and smell like--.

"Rodney." John cut him off, with the inflection that meant _If this weren't so serious I'd be laughing at you, you dork_. "Look, why don't we just go in, and you can see for yourself." He put the car in gear and drove up to the intercom and pressed a button.

"Can I help you?" crackled a voice.

John glanced at Rodney, and Rodney saw him take a breath, the kind of breath where the next thing that was going to happen might get John killed, but he was going to have to do it anyway. John said, "I was Dana's Long Runner." Rodney could hear the capitalization, and the possessive name bothered him. "I think I'm expected."

"One moment."

Rodney whispered, "Dana's _what_? What the--" John held up a hand, shaking his head in warning, then nodding toward a security camera. Rodney shut up, but it was hard to contain himself. 

After a moment the voice said, "She wants to know if you're no longer hers, then what's your name now?"

Rodney watched John take another breath and turn toward him. "You have to name me."

"Name you what? And what's with Dana's Long Runner? It sounds like a race horse."

John swallowed. "Something like that. Name me, please, or she won't let us in."

Rodney huffed. "Fine. For the moment you're Rodney's Pain in the Ass."

John seemed to relax a fraction, and his mouth twitched in what Rodney thought was probably annoyed amusement. He repeated the name to the intercom.

As the gates opened the voice came through the speaker again. "She will see you in the house."

John eased the car down a sweeping drive, all the speed and daredevil of the trip out to the house contained in a rare hesitation. Rodney asked, "Are you going to tell me what this is about?"

"Just, please, keep an open mind. Watch. Let me know if it's too--" John shrugged. "Weird."

"Believe me, you are Colonel Weird. In a universe of weird, you hold rank. Nothing would surprise me by now."

John snorted, almost a laugh. "Don't be so sure." He parked directly in front of the large porch. It looked to Rodney like something out of Gone With the Wind, not that he'd ever seen it, but the house looked like it might work as the backdrop for something with hoop skirts and brave men.

The door opened as they came up the steps, and to Rodney's relief it wasn't a butler in a tailed coat. It was a guy in chinos and boots, and a button down shirt. Rodney watched him look at John. His gaze made John shift, with contained shrugs and a slight movement of his feet, like he wasn't sure what to do, but all the guy did was smile and say, "It's good to see you. Welcome back." John nodded, and the guy turned and led them down the hall. "She's on the back porch."

"Please, just say yes," John whispered to him.

"Say yes to what?" Rodney whispered back, but he didn't get an answer as they walked through the house. The guy stepped aside in front of an open doorway and gestured for them to go in. The back porch turned out to be a sun room the size of Rodney's apartment, and the woman standing was nothing Rodney expected. She was slight, maybe Elizabeth's size, with a full mane of silver hair held back from her face. She had on close-fitting pants and high boots, but her jacket was covered with blue flowers. So, maybe not a dominatrix.

She wasn't exactly smiling at John, but she was happy to see him. John shifted next to Rodney, bumping his shoulder slightly, nearly vibrating and moving his hands like he didn't know what to do with them. She turned her eyes to Rodney. "I'm Dana Calloway. You must be Rodney--?" She held out her hand

"McKay. Dr. Rodney McKay." He shook her hand. Her grip was firm.

She looked at him as they let go. "Not a medical doctor." It wasn't a question.

"Physics, actually, and mechanical engineering." Rodney could feel himself getting jealous. "And you know John how?"

"He hasn't told you?" She looked over to John, and so did Rodney. John shook his head, a tight motion to hide the fact that he was almost shaking. Dana looked back to Rodney, lifting a hand toward John. "May I?"

Rodney felt his mouth open, completely at sea as to what was going on here, but the look in John's eyes reminded him of their whispered conversation, of other situations where John couldn't talk, and was trying to say _please_. Rodney closed his mouth and swallowed. "Yes."

She put her hand on John's cheek, and Rodney watched him go still. Not only were the body twitches gone, he was starting to relax, relax in a way that Rodney had only ever seen for eight point five seconds, post-orgasm. "You don't like the house, do you, fella'," she said, almost crooning. John shook his head in a way that had him nuzzling her palm. She reached into a pocket, but stopped herself, glancing at Rodney. 

Rodney could only say, "Yes. Uh, go ahead," around his confused jealousy. He wasn't really surprised when she offered John a sugar cube on her palm, and he bent down and took it with his lips.

She rubbed John's head, scratching between his eyebrows with her knuckle, scratching behind the ears, murmuring to him. John's hands rested at the small of his back as he responded, butting her gently with his head, turning to breathe into her hands. "Shall we get you in harness, boy? Would you like that? I have all your tack, still. Or--" She turned to look at Rodney. "I'm sorry to presume. Did you bring something?"

Rodney said, "Um, we had a long way to travel. Didn't quite, uh, fit in the overhead bins."

"Would you like to do it, or my groom."

"Your--" Rodney cleared his throat. "Your groom will be fine."

She turned back to John. "To the stables," she said. "I'll call down and let them know you're coming."

She slapped John lightly on the rump as he walked out, then picked up a telephone. Rodney listened to her end of the conversation. "Long Runner is on his way down, although he has a new name. Yes. Yes it does. He is Rodney's--" Rodney suddenly regretted his flippant choice and stepped close to her, raising a finger and shaking his head. She said, "Just a moment."

"I don't like anyone but me calling him that." He was surprised at a surge of possessiveness that came with the words. 

"What shall they call him?" she asked, her hand over the mouthpiece.

He didn't have a name ready, although Brave Heart came up for a second before Rodney realized he must be in shock to come up with something _that_ stupid. He tried to think like a pretentious horse owner. "Prized Annoyance," he said.

She looked at him and raised her eyebrows a fraction, then repeated the name into the phone before asking. "Is his harness ready? Minimal. Shoes and halter. Chest harness. Hmm." She turned to Rodney. "Tail?"

"Um, er, tail?" He tried not to embarrass John by fainting at the thought, but it was a near thing. He was pretty sure his voice had cracked.

She looked at him for a moment before turning back to the phone. "No tail. Groom him as needed and we'll see him in the show ring in, what, twenty minutes?"

Rodney groaned internally. How was he going to make small talk with this woman for twenty minutes? She turned back to him. "Can I get you something to drink? Iced tea? Something stronger?"

"Coffee would be great, if it's not too much trouble." There was not a strong enough drink for this in either of two galaxies.

She picked up the phone again, and Rodney looked past her to where John was walking toward the barn, hands still at the small of his back. Rodney had no idea what he'd gotten into. She turned back. "Coffee will be here in a moment. Won't you sit down? Tell me how he's doing. He seemed to drop off the face of the Earth."

Rodney couldn't prevent the nervous laugh. Her words were too close to the truth, but he pulled himself together. He knew how to cover for himself, but he'd never had to cover for John when John wasn't also there. "You do know he's in the military, right?"

"A major in the Air Force. He's had long deployments before, but he's never been out of touch for this long. Last I heard he was in Antarctica."

"He's Lieutenant Colonel, now," Rodney said, feeling an odd sense of pride. "And he's been, ah, deployed to some of the more, uh, remote locations. And it's secret. Very secret. More than top secret. And lots of responsibility. Leadership role." Rodney suddenly began to feel like he might be saying too much. "And that's probably more than I should have told you."

She snorted a small laugh that moved her entire body. "Given the circumstances, can you assume I am anything but discreet?"

"I, um, yes," Rodney said, wondering just what the circumstances were. "Right."

She looked at him, and before she could speak, the guy from the door brought in a tray with a coffee pot, two mugs, sugar and cream. She poured for Rodney, and when he turned down sugar and cream, she handed him the mug, saying, "He said he was yours." 

Rodney really had no idea what was going on. "Right. If he says so, that's how it is."

She laughed as she stirred cream into her own mug. "Like a cat, that one. More than most. They choose us as much as we choose them. But I've seen it go bad, seen a pony lose trust."

"Pony?" Rodney said, then swallowed, not wanting to believe this all meant what he thought it meant. His brain was only just catching up to John taking a sugar lump from this woman and her calf-hugging boots, to the words _tack_ and _tail_.

"Well, not my Long Runner, or I suppose it's your Prized Annoyance now. He is no pony. That's a stallion. I usually go for the fillies, but there was something about him. And, oh, did he win prizes, but my ponies usually do."

Rodney thought he might hyperventilate, if he let himself actually think about what she was saying. He wanted this to go well for John, to not screw it up, so he took a sip of coffee to cover the shock, and said, "Who's in your stable now?" He was desperate to look like he knew what was going on.

"Just Little Dancer, but she's still at work, and won't be in until after dinner, I expect." The woman looked proud. "She did very well in competition last month. I have pictures. Would you like to see them?"

"Sure," Rodney said, not at all sure he was ready for this. 

She left the room for a moment, and came back with a photo album. Rodney opened the cover, and found himself looking at a picture of a woman with a feather on her head, straps over her face, wearing a harness attached to a small, fancy cart. The woman across from him stood in the cart, holding a buggy whip, wearing a top hat and tailed coat.

Rodney couldn't miss the reins coming off the bit in the pony woman's mouth. "I, uh, have a difficult time imagining my, um, Annoying Thing doing this." 

"Oh, he was never a cart pony. Not a saddle horse, either. Not that one."

He turned the pages, his eyes refusing to rest on the white plume on the pony woman's head, until he came to one of the woman, of Dana Calloway, the same regal thing sitting in the huge sun room. She was standing in men's clothes next to another woman in harness, in bridle and bit and stupid big feather. Rodney swallowed, feeling his face turn pale.

"Oh, dear," Dana Calloway said. 

Rodney looked up. She was sitting on a white wicker chair opposite him, her boots tucked up under her, watching him closely. "You..." She took a moment to collect herself. "You're not a pony master, are you?" Rodney only shook his head and closed the photo album.

"Then that untrained colt brought you here without telling you what this was? What _he_ was? _Is_?" She didn't wait for Rodney to answer. "If he weren't yours now, I'd--" She stopped, and took a breath. "But he is yours. And knowing him, bringing you here is the only way he could tell you. What do you want me to do?"

Rodney let himself take time to answer, because his first thought was _How the hell should _I_ know?_ He opened the album at random, looked again at the harnessed girl, pulling the cart, and thought about how John had gone still, had _relaxed_ when this Calloway woman had put her hand on him. John liked to be tied up in bed, but this was something deeper. Maybe a light bondage had been the closest thing John had felt he could get, or could even ask for. "Show me what he needs."

"You really didn't know?" Rodney only shook his head. "All right," she said, reaching into the sugar bowl and taking out a few lumps. "Let's put him through his paces." She stood up, handing some of the sugar to Rodney, and Rodney followed her out to the yard, followed her to the barn, through the same door he'd seen John use. 

Rodney hadn't been in many barns before, but this looked normal enough, and it smelled like horses. He could hear someone talking softly, but couldn’t make out the words, then a bang, and a thick Northern English accent say. "Stop kicking, you. Prized Annoyance? Pain in the Arse is more like it. She said your Rodney said no, and no it is."

"Ty?" Calloway called.

"Aye, miss. Ready now."

"All right," she said, and led Rodney between the stalls and through a big barn door to a show ring surrounded by high walls. It was very private. Rodney could see the stuff used to make horse jumps, but smaller, stored out of the way. There was a very small set of bleachers, and they went to sit there. In a few moments, a small man came out holding a lead. He turned and tugged on it, encountering some resistance, then giving up and walking back out of sight. Eventually, he emerged again, and out came John on the lead.

He was at least a foot taller than the man leading him, and maybe a good six or eight inches taller than usual, and Rodney looked at his feet. They were encased in boots that forced John up on his toes on top of platforms that looked like hooves. Rodney let his gaze flow up, taking in the brown leather jock strap, the harness that crossed John's chest, and finally the halter on his head, made of thinner straps--a horse halter scaled to human size. The groom led John around the ring, and Rodney could not take his eyes off him. The boots changed his walk, but it was graceful in a way Rodney only barely understood. His chest moved with every high step, and his head was slightly bowed. John shook his head once, and it was not a gesture Rodney had ever seen. Rodney swallowed, and realized his mouth was watering. John was _beautiful._

As he went around the ring, Rodney saw John's hands were encased in brown mitts, buckled at the small of his back in padded cuffs built into the harness. Below that, he was almost bare, just the lines of the jock across his hips and around the tops of his thighs. His muscles flexed as he walked, and Rodney stared. He'd never seen anything like this.

But Calloway was clucking her tongue and shaking her head. "He's angry."

Rodney looked back at John, trying to see what she saw. "How do you know?"

"Line of his shoulders, and that head toss. See, he's done it again." She stood. "Shall we go see what's bothering him?" 

The trainer halted as they approached, and John's head came up. He was so tall in the hooves. His eyes had a new look Rodney had never seen. He'd seen John nervous, but this was a different kind of unease, and there was something else as well. Calloway was right to say that John was angry. He would only glance at Rodney for brief moments before dropping his head, and looking down and to the right. Rodney took a breath, and looked at Calloway. "What do I do?"

"With your permission," she said. Rodney nodded, and she stepped forward. She had to reach up to John. "I'm going to check your harness." He bent so she could run her fingers under the thin halter straps, and then she went over the harness on his chest, checked his hands at the back, and just as impersonally made sure the jock wasn't binding. She crouched down and tapped one of the bizarre boots. John lifted it, balancing on the other leg, and Rodney saw that there was a metal horse shoe nailed onto the artificial hoof. She inspected both feet, then ran her hands over the boots. "Comfortable?" She stood to look at John, who nodded, but stamped once. He moved over to Rodney without looking at him, bent down, and butted his head against Rodney's shoulder.

Rodney felt awkward as he reached up to John's head, but then John, still not looking at him, put his foot on Rodney's toes and _leaned_.

"Ow! Ow! Get off me!" The hoof hurt. Rodney tried to push him off, but he didn't want to knock John over.

Calloway took the lead from the groom, and used the end to slap John on the ankle, pulling his head away from Rodney at the same time. "Off," she said firmly. 

John picked up his foot, but somehow hip checked Rodney as he stepped away. "What was that for?"

"He's mad at you, and I think I know why." She started toward the barn, holding John's lead, but stopped herself. "With your permission, of course."

"Yes, yes, yes, just tell me how this can get any weirder." Calloway started toward the barn, but John wouldn't budge. She stopped and looked at him, and he snorted once. Rodney knew that snort, knew the annoyance and anger that lay behind it. 

Calloway handed him the lead. "I think you're going to have to do this. He chose you, after all."

Rodney took the leather strap from her hand, and looked at it lying across his palm for a long moment before making a decision. He stepped up to John and tried to pat his shoulder, but Rodney was uncomfortable doing it. "What-- What do you need?" John stepped close, crowding him. Outside of sex, John had rarely violated Rodney's personal space for more than a brief bumping of shoulders. John hip checked him again.

Calloway spoke softly. "I think he wants his tail." 

John started toward the barn, and Rodney followed, still holding the lead. John walked his strange, graceful new walk to a closed door, and stopped. Rodney looked up into John's face, which was weird to have to do in itself, and asked, "What you want is in here?" John nodded a big horse nod, put his head behind Rodney's, and pushed. Rodney opened the door, turned on the light, and immediately turned away. He had barely looked, but there seemed to be several sets of tack, each in an area with a name over it. _Long Runner_ had more trophies and ribbons than the others, and a large picture of what was probably John, but it was hard to tell because he was wearing some kind of long-nosed--oh god, horse-faced--mask, running, with a tail streaming out behind him. The tail itself hung on the wall, attached to a plug that left no doubt as to how it was worn. Rodney bent over, hands on his knees, his head swimming. "Oh my god. Oh my god."

John backed away from him, head down, moving to the end of the lead. Rodney only noticed when the leather started to slip through his fingers. He gripped it to stop it from dropping, and John stopped, but kept pressure on the lead. Rodney glanced up, from where he still bent over, and realized John was trembling, afraid of something, and refusing to look at him.

Calloway looked grim. "With your permission," she said in clipped tones to Rodney, but not waiting for his answer. She walked up to John and put her hand on his face, crooning wordlessly for a moment. In the same soft tones she started to talk. "Easy, fella'. This is all a surprise to him, and you're going to have to break him in. Breaking humans is just as delicate as training ponies, and you're asking a lot of him. Really, it's not fair, and you should have known better. Let's get you out of that harness, okay? And I'll send Rodney back to the house, and you two can talk."

John backed away from her, pulling harder on the lead in Rodney's hand. She grabbed the lead up close to the halter. "Shh, shh. It's okay. It's okay. You don't have to. You have to help him, though." She clucked and turned, pulling on the lead. "Come on." John let her lead him back to the door. He didn't look at Rodney, who stood up and dropped the end of lead he was still holding. "You, too," Calloway said over her shoulder.

Rodney followed. The room was spotless, and there was a sink in the corner. Calloway stepped aside, and pointedly handed him the lead. Rodney stood next to John, who had his head pointed slightly away. It was weird to just come up to John's shoulder. Rodney pointed at the photo. "That's you, isn't it? You're beautiful, you know, although I don't think I ever would have dreamed I'd ever say something like that about something like, well, this. I have no idea how you manage to run in those damn hoof things." Rodney looked at the other pictures on the wall. In none of them was John harnessed to a cart, or given a stupid plume. In most of them he wore little different than he had on now, and in many he was caught in motion, knees high, or running on a long lead, or posing while some one looked him over. There was only one with Calloway, a candid of him bending down to butt her back with his head, and her, dressed in a tailored suit, caught in the photograph while losing her balance, ungraceful, and laughing.

In all of them he wore the tail, and in many he had a bit in his mouth. Rodney looked for the bit, and found a slim, metal bar, joined with a small ring in the middle, with two larger rings at the end that had leather running through them. A snaffle, he remembered from his sister's horse-crazy days, although why he remembered, he couldn't say. This one was far smaller than the one in his sister's prized collection of tack, the existence of which he never understood, because she never had a horse. Rodney picked up the tail, trying not to touch the plug. The hair was coarse and a deep brown, matching the hair on John's head. Rodney ran his fingers down it. "Is this what you want?"

John moved his body next to Rodney's, pressing gently, but still not looking at him. Rodney reached up and took hold of the halter to turn John's head. _No_ , Rodney corrected himself, _not John. Prized Annoyance._

Suddenly, that made it all easier. He pulled John's head down, and leaned his forehead on John's, trying to figure out what this was for John. Rodney couldn't imagine giving up control. It was one of the reasons that, for all his military work, he fundamentally did not understand the military mind, the ability to carry out orders even when you had a better idea. And there he had it.

He remembered how John had acted during their first, long fight with the Wraith, how _happy_ he had been to take orders from that jarhead with the John Wayne complex, just because he had the higher rank. Even in their more kinky moments in bed, John had never wanted pain or humiliation, but he liked to be challenged. Leading the military on Atlantis was a challenge, all right, but John didn't respect the implied master, the IOA.

There was more in Rodney's head, but what it came down to was that he _got it_. John needed to prove himself, but he needed to do it for someone he valued, and wanted to be told exactly what was expected of him. "Okay, boy," Rodney said. "Shh, shh. It's all right." He spent long moments petting John, petting his Pain in the Ass who was not only letting Rodney touch, but leaning in for more. Rodney decided his skills in pleasing a cat should work, and they did. Maybe horses were part cat. Eventually, Rodney picked up the bit and took it to the sink, because who knew how long it been sitting there gathering dust. When it was washed, he brought it back to John, who was looking straight at him for the first time, eyes bright. "Open up, boy. Come on," he said, and brought the slim bit to the lips of his Prized Annoyance. He didn't know what he was doing, but he'd seen it in the movies. John let him put it in, and turned his head so Rodney could fasten the bit to the halter.

Rodney looked at the tail and swallowed. He'd seen lubricant on the shelf above the sink, so he brought the tail over, washed the plug, and hesitated. The bit was one thing, but this was something else entirely. But John had asked him for it, acted downright unhappy without it, and Rodney nervously fingered the long hairs as he pulled together something very like courage. Too quick to let himself think any more, Rodney slicked it, knelt down behind John, and tapped his legs. John spread, bending to give Rodney access, muscles in his legs tensing as he balanced on the hooves. Rodney set the slim plug, and John pushed back, more than Rodney expected, and he gripped harder and pushed. The tail slid in, and John shivered, straightening and shifting on his feet.

Rodney stood and led John out of the tack room. John followed, and bent forward to nose Rodney's pocket. "What? Oh, right," Rodney said, reaching his hand in to pull out one of the lumps of sugar. John took it, eating it easily around the slim bit, and butted Rodney with his head. It was more affectionate than Rodney had ever seen him. He smiled to himself as he petted John, thinking that the jerk communicated better when he was pretending to be a dumb animal. He took off the lead and swatted John gently on the ass. John walked ahead of him, back to the show ring, and Rodney watched, unsure of his own feelings, but very sure of John's. He walked with more confidence, the tail hanging to his knees, and swinging.

"I think you'll be fine," Calloway said. Rodney had forgotten her. She put her arm in his, and led him to the big open door. They stood together, watching John stand for a moment in the show ring, and then John put his head down and started to run. He wasn't fast, but he was oddly graceful, high stepping and proud, and the tail-- Why in the world had that Calloway woman thought John could do without it?

"He's beautiful," Rodney said.

He heard Calloway laugh next to him. "That he is, but that's not why he won all those prizes. You should see him _dance_ ".

**Author's Note:**

> beta by treewishes, and inspired by her mentioning John with a bit in his mouth.


End file.
